6634/Home, Sweet Quantum Chamber

Home, Sweet Quantum Chamber
Date of Scene:	20 June 2021
Location:	A Warehouse in Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	Finley escorts Ava back to her apartment, where she discovers the breadth of Ava's research and the depth of her mistrust. The moorings for bridges are built.
Cast of Characters:	Ava Starr, Finley Ellison

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Ava Starr has posed:
The old warehouse near the docks in Hell's Kitchen is, given its location, fairly isolated. It's on a sizable property, with a chain link fence around it that seems in fairly good repair. When the unmarked SHIELD SUV approaches it, Ava gets out and punches in a code to unlock the gate and let it through. She closes the gate again behind the car, before climbing back in and directing Finley to the rear of the building.

Ultimately, she leads the engineer inside the squat brick building, probably a fairly bustling place of business back in the 40's and 50's, but a little dilapadated and run down some sixty or seventy years later. Still, a keen eye will see that most of the damage is cosmetic only. The structure is sound and there are subtle indications of reinforcement here and there. Not to mention a fairly decent surveillance system.

Apparently, Ava knows her stuff.

She leads Finley through a grey metal door into the building and then across an open space that's scattered with old work stations and a mix of technology from different eras, until she comes to some metal stairs and heads up into what was once office space on the second floor but what she's converted into a loft instead.

Finley Ellison has posed:
Finley follows along. The building is interesting in its cultivated unassuming nature. But mostly she's concerned with making sure that Ava's molecules are still cohesive enough to keep her body together. It was touch and go for a bit in the makeshift lab. Not that she's willing to confide that to anyone. Ava's fine. It's all fine.

When they get inside, Finley can't help but be distracted by the tech on the lab tables. "It's like a museum in here!" she says, delighted. But Ava is already moving up the stairs, so she can't linger. "I'll come back for you," she whispers to an old signal generator.

Ava Starr has posed:
The loft is all brick walls and occluded glass, pine floors and pillars where walls were taken down but the support structure was still needed. At the far side of the loft is what looks like a giant glass box with black corners. Inside it is a twin bed and a small, thrift store desk that looks like it's seen better days. Truthfully, most of the furniture has that shabby chic feel. Thrown together more for availability and utility than decor. This isn't a magazine-worthy loft. Though it'd definitely serve well as the set to any number of alt life dramas.

A shiver runs down the woman's spine as the beginnings of her instability starts to return. Now that the disruptor field effects have been reversed, she's back to being able to phase through things again. Which means there's a bit of a prismatic afterimage glow about her as the shiver subsides.

"Home, sweet home," she tells the SHIELD agent dryly, somehow keeping the sullen feeling she has out of her voice. "Make yourself comfortable." She crosses toward the glass box and enters it, closing the door behind her. Two of the walls look like they're giant light reflectors, like from a lighthouse. But, as she activates something near the door, it's not light their focussing. It's quantum energy. She stretches out on the bed and lets out a sigh of relief.

Finley Ellison has posed:
"May I?" Finley asks as she approaches the chamber hesitantly. She wants to study it. Or ask for schematics. If they're going to solve Ava's problem, Finely needs to understand what she's working with. It's a lot to take in.

But she should probably let Ava rest. Her ordeal has been traumatic on a cellular level. "Nevermind. You should just...I'll poke around then."

What little furniture there is was probably rescued from garbage collection - a ratty love seat, a chair that was definitely molded into its shape by a previous owner, a stained coffee table. In another corner there's a small dinette table in the kitchen area. It's sparse. And not furnished with company in mind. Finley wonders if she has more than one set of cutlery.

Separate from all of this, a white suit stands, displayed almost like armor. Finley moves to to inspect it.

Ava Starr has posed:
Oh, there's likely more than one set of cutlery. And dishes. Because who wants to wash dishes every night? That said, given the condition of the building and the age and wear of the furniture, it's clean. A little cluttered, maybe, but clean. The most notable clutter is in cleanest corner, in fact, not so far from that Quantum Energy Chamber. It is filled with bits and pieces of very modern tech, a small computer work station, and even some old fashioned blue prints. Upon closer inspection, they all seem to be fragments of various attempts at harnessing quantum energy. The oldest of the paper schematics is labled as having been designed by E. Starr. The others by various other engineers from both inside and outside SHIELD who were known for their energy research projects. The bits of tech fit various of these models.

Most of the workings for the QEC itself are to be found outside of it, anyway. So Ava's rest doesn't necessarily impede a superficial investigation of the machine -- even if it would be unwise to open the guts of it. The young woman moves her head and sits up so she can track Finley's movements through the space. "You really intend to hang out here indefinitely?" she asks shortly, her voice only partially muffled by the glass cage she's in.

Finley Ellison has posed:
Finley looks up at Ava's question, the sound pulling her out of the train of understanding she was chasing. It takes a few seconds for her to process the question. And when she does, she shrugs.

"I'm supposed to help you," she says.

Ava Starr has posed:
"Doesn't really answer my quesiton," Ava replies, her accent causing her to clip her words somewhat. "But I'll take it as a 'yes'." Well. That's going to be a challengefor her. She lets out a sigh and pulls herself to her feet, coming over to the glass. "See that old wicker thing?" she says, pointing to a large wicker hamper pushed over to one side. It's about three feet wide, four long, and three deep. "There's blankets in there. Couch isn't half bad for what it is, though you may want to scrounge a piece of foam to toss on top of it." Yeah, all the amenities here. That's for sure. "There's beer in the fridge, tea in the cupboard, and food... somewhere. Pantry. Fridge. I haven't been home much to bother with groceries." And she's more inclined to bring food in she's picked up herself than call for delivery.

Finley Ellison has posed:
"Well you said 'indefinitely'," Finley reminds her, "And if we're successful, my time here will have a definite end. But you were there when the Chief gave the orders, so you should know you're stuck with me I guess."

She crosses to the hamper and inspects the blankets, pulling out the softest one and taking it over to the couch. She goes to the fridge for a beer -- and to take note of its contents -- and asks while she stands with the door open, "Can I get you anything?"

Ava Starr has posed:
Oh. Finley's one of those. Very literal. Great.

Ava flumps back onto the end of her bed, though she doesn't sprawl out this time. "No, I'm good," she says. "I can eat or whatever when I get out of here." She *should* stay in for a good eight hours. She'll probably pop out again after only one or two -- if only because of having 'company'. She can make up the difference when they finally sleep. If the engineer actually sleeps.

"So, if you're gonna help... what do you need?" she asks now. Sooner she figures that out, the sooner she can ditch the roommate. It's pretty obvious, after all, looking around her apartment, that the woman lives a very solitary existance. Obviously, she doesn't even date, never mind get out very much.

Finley Ellison has posed:
"Uh, the schematics are a good start. All of the research. Everything that makes these machines work. That make *you* work." Finley gets a beer and heads back to settle on the couch. Then she fishes in her pocket and pulls out the device that Ava stole and holds it up. "And um what this is and what you plan to do with it."

She takes a sip of beer and makes a face. "You drink this?" She puts the Heineken down on the table.

"But I guess what I really need is to know what you want," Finley tells her. Her expression is sincere. "I mean, um, what do you want the results of our work together to be?"

Ava Starr has posed:
Ava arches a brow as the interloper criticizes her beer. "You prefer pine resin and goat piss?" she retorts. Sure, it's fairly popular swill in her fridge, but it's hers.

She chuffs out a breath, reining her usual abrassiveness back in under control. She's reacting as much to the return of the pain of her molecular disquilibrium as anything else. "I don't want to hurt any more," she says after a sullen minute of internal debate. "That piece is an experimental prototype of a new energy regulator." She flips a hand to encompass the cage she's in. "This bloody thing's a stopgap. It keeps my molecules from flying apart from one end of the universe to the other. I got a friend. He knows about this shit. He says the problem is my molecules need more energy to stay together than they do to float apart. And that it's got to be quantum energy, because of the accident that cause it." She grimaces, clearly not happy about talking about this to a stranger. Except she really does want help. And out of everyone she's met... this woman before her is closest in nature to her adopted father -- the one person in SHIELD who actually gave a damn.

"He says I need some sort of exotic quantum particle to stablize everything. But he's not even sure it exists. God knows the last team that was supposedly working on it didn't find it." Of course, she's not convinced they were working on it, either.

"All those bits and pieces over there are parts of various attempts to harness quantum energy. The thing that's labeled with E. Starr as the designer... that's what started all this."

Finley Ellison has posed:
"I prefer a milkshake stout," Finley says as though that were an infinitely superior alcoholic beverage choice.

But when Ava says that she hurts Finley takes out her tablet, which has been keyed in to the woman's quantum fluctuations. Her molecules are slowly distancing themselves from each other. "Is it always like this?" Finley asks. "Are you ever not in pain?" And there is sympathy in her eyes.

Ava Starr has posed:
"Not when I'm outside this," Ava says, gesturing again to her glass cage, with the waves of energy flooding it. "And even here... only when I've been in long enough to have built up some stores. But they don't last long."

She gives a sharp, humourless smile that fairly radiates her pain in the guise of hostility that's less aimed at Finley and more at the universe in general. "They call it 'molecular disequilibrium.' A rather dull name, I think. Doesn't quite do justice to what it means. Every cell in my body is torn apart... and stitched back together. Over and over. Everyday."

She inhales a shaky breath. "Thing is, it's getting worse. I need to stay in this thing longer and longer for less and less time out. There's coming a point when this isn't going to work any more. At that point, I'm completely fucked."

Which might explain her desperation. Why she'd go into the Triskelion, occupied as it is, to retrieve one small chipset.

Finley Ellison has posed:
"So we've got a deadline," Finley nods. "What about your experience when the disruptor caused a reversal in the malfunction -- too much energy rather than too little? What was that like? I know the seizures couldn't have been pleasant. But what about the rest of it?" It's an insensitive question, but the data could be important and Finley isn't one to allow possibly vital information to be lost to the haze of memory.

Ava Starr has posed:
"It didn't stop hurting, if that's what you mean," Ava retorts, falling back on her bed, now. "In some ways, it hurt more." Her nostrils flare some as she stares up at the ceiling of her cage -- a series of clear glass pannels. "Normally, it's harder for me to stay tangible than intangible. I have to concentrate to stay solid, unless I'm in here."

She gives it a little bit of serious thought, despite the fact the question has pissed her off to a degree. "The disruptor field... reversed that or something? 'Cept it didn't hurt any less. It just felt like I was being crushed more often than being torn apart."

Finley Ellison has posed:
"Thank you," Finley says. "I understand that seemed like a possibly inappropriate question. But you just admitted to me that we *are* on a deadline, and if the perfect result of our work is you living without pain, I need to know these things. I'm not a doctor - of medicine anyway. I do hold a doctorate degree, if you find that reassuring."

She's already taking notes on her tablet. Ones that won't sync up with Ava's SHIELD file until they're both ready for that to happen. "You've lived with this condition for far longer than I've known about it. I may be the expert in the mechanics, but you are the expert in the results. I expect I will have to ask you all sorts of indelicate and unpleasant questions before this is over."

Ava Starr has posed:
Ava cranes her head around. The look she gives Finley is a cross between 'WTF?!' and 'great, you're one of *those*...' She watches the SHIELD tech transition from curious and senstive to brusque and invasive and can't quite keep a bitter sneer from curling her lips. "Whatever," she says presently, sounding far more dismissive than she really is.

"Look," she snarls, "you want my life history? You can have it: I was eight when my father built his quantum tunnel. He took too many risks. Something went wrong. My mother and I were there. He told us to run. But I could tell he was scared. I didn't want him to be alone. It didn't matter. The machine blew. When I woke up, my parents were dead. I wasn't so lucky."

Again, she stares up at that ceiling, ignoring the other woman's presence directly, though she still speaks. "The fire department came and they couldn't touch me. No one could, until I figured out how to think myself solid. Then, SHIELD stepped in... and I've been paying for it ever since."

Finley Ellison has posed:
"I really am here to help," Finely says softly. "Please believe that. I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry you haven't had the help you deserve."

She's staring down at the coffee table and honestly doesn't know what to do. She keeps staring at the data readings that represent Ava's quantum disequillibrium. She's spent the last day holding her breath hoping the woman wouldn't implode or explode or disappear into a billion scattered quantum particles. She really doesn't know what she's doing. So better to look at the coffee table. And the open bottle. "Look, do you want this beer? Or should I put it back in the fridge?"

Ava Starr has posed:
Ava pushes herself off her bed. "Sure," she says finally, moving to the chamber door. She has to shut off the energy feed to open the door, which she does. She leans against the doorframe as Finley brings her the beer. Better to stay in the QEC, just in case. "Thanks," she says, taking it.

She lets out a chuff of air. "Look, you need to understand. It's not that I don't want help. It's that I don't trust SHIELD. I was eight. *Eight* when they brought me in. *Twelve* when they put me in that suit." She thrusts her bottle neck toward the Ghost suit on its rack. "I was in the field at 16...killing for them. Sabotaging missiles and setting off explosions to kill enemies. But never once... Never *once* did they give me what they promised. There was always some excuse why it didn't work. Couldn't work. Why they hadn't come up with the solution. It's been over twenty years. Why the hell should I believe this time is any different? Especially given all that SHIELD has been accused of. I've *seen* them do that. I've *helped* them. I know what SHIELD is."

Finley Ellison has posed:
"Well, that's just fucked up," Finley says. "I'm not saying they could fix you and they weren't. Your compromised structure is... *complicated*." She gestures down to the tablet holding her data. "But that video was HYDRA and clever editing. Which doesn't negate your actual experience with SHIELD. I get that that was...not good.

"So look, don't trust them. Trust me. I won't drag you off to a lab -- I *might* ask you to go to a lab for specific tests if for example they involve specific equipment and the machines are too large to transport. But I'll ask. And I'll explain why I want to run those tests. And you can say no. -- We'll work here. I won't bring in anyone to consult without your say so. My notes are mine. They don't sync to your SHIELD file unless we both agree it's time. SHIELD failed you, I get that. Let me make good on that long overdue promise.

"SHIELD, the SHIELD I know, is full of good people who want to do the right thing. So let me do that for you. Please."

That was a whole speech, and not a single 'um' from Finley Ellison. She radiates sincerity. Looking up at Ava, Finley pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "I mean, um,..." and she swallows, embarrassed by her impassioned plea.

Ava Starr has posed:
Ava takes a deep swig of her beer, studying the girl. How is she really going to help? She looks so young -- more certain with her impassioned speech than she seemed before, it's true, but still...

"You know General Hale is HYDRA, right?" she asks, perhaps deflecting some. "The bitch squatting in the Triskelion. She's sitting on everything you're probably going to need to pull this off." Apparently, she's not saying 'no' to the help. Doesn't mean she's not still challenging.

The jury is out, as far as Ava is concerned, as to whether or not SHIELD is really on the level. But, as the pain beneath her skin constantly reminds her, she is running out of time. Either this will work, or it will kill her. Either way... she'll be better off than she is now.

"Fine," she says finally, downing yet more of that beer. She probably hardly even tastes it. "I'll trust you." The mouth of her bottle taps Finley's collar bone. "But, if you let me down..." She doesn't finish that sentence. She probably doesn't need to.